Blue // Daniel Seavey

Chapter 3

Tori

Help.

That's all I need right now. Help. I try to scream out, not even scream, just simply speak, but my mouth doesn't seem to work. My lips are severely cold, probably a blueish colour by now, with deep cracks forming in the skin. Numbness. The only thing my body can feel.

I smack my palm forcefully against the block of ice that seems to be trapping me, holding me hostage, but no matter how hard I try, nothing will happen. No amount of crying will do anything because I know that no one will come to save me. No one cares.

There's nothing I could possibly do to salvage the damage I've caused in this world. I could cry, beg, plead for forgiveness, but I'm in too deep to ever come back up. And this is my punishment. My punishment for all the bad things I've done.

Everyday is like torture, like living is a form of suffering, like opening my eyes every morning is just a reminder that I'll have to get through another day of hating myself, knowing that the world is against me.

My hand begins to become weaker, numb, like the rest of me. And the moment my cold fingertips rest against the freezing ice, I know I'm completely hopeless, my body shutting down as I give up. Give up on trying to escape and save myself from the pain and suffering I know I will experience every day for the rest of my life.

I never should've looked in that mirror.

My eyes flying open, I immediately sit my body against the headboard. My whole body is clammy, beads of cold sweat dripping from my drenched hair. I try to bring my breathing back to normal as I place my hand over my heaving chest, the sweat now covering my palm and fingertips.

What the hell just happened?

That dream, no, nightmare, felt almost too real. Despite its peculiar realness and how I could feel each and every emotion, I know I wasn't in my own body; it felt as though I was in the body of someone who has suffered for a long time. Someone who feels there is no way out. And I hate to imagine who that person is.

The feeling of being stuck feels... familiar, as if I've recently experienced it. Yes, that's it. That's exactly how I felt as I stared into the blue of his eyes - cold and trapped. And now I never want to look into them again, not if they are going to haunt me like this.

~▪️~▪️~ ━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━ ~▪️~▪️~

Walking into my favourite cafe, the beautiful scent of fresh coffee pleasantly enters my nose. Mhmmm. I couldn't make it through a day without my morning coffee; I'd feel all groggy, moody and most likely snap anyone for simply speaking to me. It is essential. And that's why I come here every day before school starts.

After ordering my usual, a toffee latté, I take a seat by the window, before pulling out my laptop. It's been a week since Mr Mathers gave our class our assignment and I have to ensure it is grammatically correct, my choice of paragraphing flows and that the sentence structure is on point. Yes, I'm a perfectionist.

As I'm halfway through proof-reading my work, I catch someone looking at me in my peripheral vision. Cautiously, I turn my head to the side the smallest bit to check who it is, and when I distinguish the face, I instantly go wide-eyed. Shit. Jonah Marais. Immediately feeling uncomfortable, I return my gaze back to my work.

Okay, read, read, read. Don't take notice of him. He isn't there. Look at your work. Just read, Tori. After a few moments of trying to ignore his presence, I can still feel his eyes burning through me. Slowly, I move my eyes onto him again, hoping he would look away when he notices I've caught him. But instead, we make eye-contact, a warm smile on his lips.